


Peaches and Cream

by Hatterized



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Divergence, Fist Fights, Fix-It, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 01:36:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12996999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/pseuds/Hatterized
Summary: Rick comes home to Alexandria in flames and Negan waiting for him in his house.(8.08 fix-it fic, Regan style)





	Peaches and Cream

**Author's Note:**

> Beware- spoilers for the season 8 midseason finale! Worry not, though, nobody gets bitten in here. Everything is smut and spaghetti.

Alexandria is burning, the smoky cover of night alight with licking flames as Rick charges toward his house, gun held aloft and at the ready. He can’t process what’s going on around him, can’t think about how many homes he sees reduced to smoldering rubble. What he _does_ notice is that he encounters no bodies on the ground, nothing that makes him stop short and have to wonder with heart-stopping fear if that’s Carl, Michonne, Rosita…

It’s a small comfort, considering his home is crumbling before his very eyes in the wake of the Saviors’ attack. It gives him hope, and if he was able to grasp onto a feeling other than panic, he would be proud. He'd left Carl and Michonne in charge, and together it seems that they got everyone out safely.

He doesn’t pause when he sees his house come into view, just charges forward and up the steps of his still-standing home, thankful for small mercies.

It’s pitch-dark inside, shadows creeping eerily in corners and spilling down dark hallways as he steps into the kitchen, whispers desperately, “Carl? Michonne? Judith?” He doesn’t get a reply, but he doesn’t have time to decide if that’s a good thing or not because one step toward the darkened hallway toward Michonne’s bedroom sees a sudden jolt and his gun wrenched from his hands by a tall, looming figure. He’s sent sprawling to the ground by the impact, something hard hitting his chest and knocking the wind out of him and rolling him over. Hunched over on his knees with his hips in the air, he gasps for breath while a deep, familiar chuckle rumbles above him.

“Damn. That’s a nice angle, Rick. You wanna just stay like that for me?”

Rick’s face burns with furious embarrassment and he deftly rolls onto his back, kicking out at the man above him and relishing the pained grunt he gets when his booted foot meets something solid. He’s barely managed to get onto his knees when pain explodes through his right side, and he hisses in agony as wood connects with his ribs, barbs catching in his shirt and ripping at the fabric.

“I just wanted to talk, asshole, but if you want to fucking fight, _well_ …” Rick is wrenched up by his shirt collar to face Negan, the man's face glowing white in the spare moonlight. “Let’s get you properly on your ass.” He looks like he’s going to speak again, but before the man can get a word out, Rick’s tackling him, slamming the larger man up against the wall with a crash of breaking glass. “Fuck!” Negan half-shouts, half-groans, and Rick staggers back only to be caught by the arms and shoved bodily onto the kitchen table. His cheek smacks the wood and leaves him disoriented for a moment, just long enough for Negan’s constant chatter to start up again.

“I didn’t want to fucking do this, Rick! I wanted us to have a nice, sit-down meal, you know that? Try this shit a second time-”

“You ever shut the hell up?” Rick snaps, glaring up at the man approaching him.

“Nope!” Negan cries gleefully, bringing Lucille over his head for another swing that cracks against the tabletop when Rick rolls out of the way, the bat sailing past his face so close that he can hear the whistle of air in its wake. Negan lunges as soon as Rick’s off the table, taking him down with a shoulder to his gut, and Rick clings tight to take the man down with him. The solid echo of wood clattering against wood rings in his ears, and without thinking Rick snatches in the dark for Negan’s precious bat, taking her in his hands and gripping the thicker end just beneath the barbs so he can land a few blows to Negan’s chest with the handle.

“Don’t you touch her!” Negan roars at him, the command undercut with pain. Negan kicks out at him blindly, catching him in the stomach and groin and sending him toppling to the floor again, the bat falling from his hands and rolling away. Negan grabs out at Rick’s ankle, dragging him forward and throwing one long leg over his waist to straddle him, his weight settling on Rick’s hips.

“What’s the matter?” Rick taunts breathlessly, trying in vain to squirm out from beneath Negan. He's heavier than he looks, in spite of his thin frame. “I thought you liked me carryin’ her around?”

Negan snarls, the blood in his teeth visible even in the low light. He looks frighteningly pale in in the dark, all white and black with little in between. _Like a true creature of the night_ , Rick thinks. “Nobody touches my girl without _my_ say-so, Rick. That’s just fucking manners. But you don’t really know much about that, do you? A man makes you dinner, brings your kid home safe and sound and patches him up- for the _second_ time, fuck you very much- and this is how you thank him?” Negan shakes his head, and Rick can’t process any of what he said except for-

“Carl?” He demands, desperate and broken, and then he hears it- the sound of footsteps taking the stairs too fast, something he’s all too used to.

“Dad?” Carl appears around the corner, looking worried and shaken, but alive and well.

“Carl! Carl, are you- are you alright, is Judith-”

“We’re fine, dad. Judith’s not here, but she’s okay. Everyone is.” He pauses, eyeing the way Negan’s still sitting atop his father with distaste. “You want to let him up?”

“Nope,” Negan says again, looking gleeful.

Rick can practically hear his son’s eye roll from across the room. “I got everyone out. I was about to leave, but then one of Negan’s men shot me-”

Rick goes nearly feral with rage at that. Red clouds his vision and he's determined to make Negan see it too, his fingers tight around the man’s neck until Carl’s voice calls him back again.

“Grazed me! Just barely grazed my side. See-” He makes a frustrated noise. “Just let him up for a second, asshole!”

Negan doesn’t have to comply, because Rick throws him off with a buck of his hips, running to his son and pulling him into a fierce hug, burying his face in his hair. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispers. “For getting everyone out. For making sure everyone’s safe.”

Carl clings to him for a moment before drawing back and lifting his shirt, a white bandage covering a small spot on his right side. He lifts it to show Rick the wound- a bloody but clean graze of a bullet, already tended to. “See? I’m fine, dad.”

“Good!” Negan calls from the kitchen. “Now that that shit’s out of the way, you can run along upstairs, kid. Your daddy and I have some grown-up shit to discuss.”

Carl retreats up the stairs, and the second he’s gone Rick storms back into the kitchen, draws his arm back, and sinks his fist into Negan’s jaw with a satisfying _thud_.

“Your men _shot my son!_ ”

Negan shakes the blow off before landing one of his own across Rick’s cheekbone, the hit solid enough to make his teeth ache. “I told them not to, you prick! I told them not to hurt the kid- or you! I killed the dumb fuck that shot him and bandaged him up myself!” He grabs the lapels of Rick’s now-ragged shirt, the buttons popping and skittering off in all directions as he uses it to pull Rick aside and shove him down onto the kitchen table again. Rick hisses angrily, bracketed and held down by Negan’s warm, solid frame, the man’s hands planted on the table on either side of his head. “You gonna behave for me now, Rick?” he asks, deep and rumbling as the purr of a Harley.

“You want me to?” Rick challenges, one knee sliding up between Negan’s thighs to meet the hardness there. He smirks, triumphant- the man’s weakness is easy to spot once he’d figured it out. “Seems like you were havin’ fun. You like gettin’ knocked around?”

Negan bursts into shocked laughter, gazing down at him with heat in his dark eyes. “Don’t you just have me fucking _pegged_ , Rick? But-” Negan’s fingers ghost over Rick’s throat, down his bare chest where his shirt’s been ripped open to expose hard muscle and smooth skin, stopping at his crotch, his hand lingering there for a brief moment before giving a teasing squeeze to the telling bulge in the black denim.

 _Oh_. He’s hard.

“You think I didn’t notice that?” Negan croons, palm working slowly over Rick’s aching arousal. The drag of it through the layers of fabric is just on the edge of uncomfortable, but somehow that just makes him harder, makes him want to push his hips up to rub himself off in Negan's palm. “Oh, _baby_. I watched you get hard for me. I felt it when I was on top of you. That where you like to be, Rick? On your back, someone holding you down?” He undoes Rick’s belt, unzips him, and the sound of it is harsh in the quiet room. Rick’s breath quickens when Negan’s hands linger on the hem of his jeans. Everything Negan wants is plainly written out on his face like the back cover of a cheap paperback novel, and Rick can’t help but wonder why he’s stopping now.

“What the hell are you waitin’ on?” Rick breathes, raising his hips in invitation. “You just gonna be a fucking tease?”

Lust flashes through Negan’s eyes, predatory and wild. “You want this, Rick? You want me to lay you out on your kitchen table? Fuck you so hard you’ll feel me there for days?”

“Well,” Rick cocks his head, smirking, “we’re definitely not goin’ upstairs where Carl could hear. So it’s the table or the floor.”

Negan’s on him like a hungry wolf before he can take another breath, his jeans jerked down his legs along with his boxers. It’s a moment of fumbling with his boots before Rick’s stripped, his shirt uselessly hanging open around him and his jeans and boxers pooled on the floor.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Negan breathes, his hands smoothing reverently up Rick’s sides, making him shiver. “You really fucking want it, don’t you?” He pinches one rosy nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently until it’s hard and stiff. Rick’s back leaves the table in a needy arch at the cool touch to sensitive flesh, his body warming. “You like that, Rick?” he purrs out as he hooks Rick’s legs beneath the knees and raises them so his heels are perched on the edge of the table, thighs spread wide. Rick can tell his face and chest are glowing red, heat engulfing him despite his nakedness and the chill of nighttime. He gazes up at Negan, painfully aware of how bare he is in contrast to the man hovering above him who's still clothed in leather. He glances down to see his cock, stiff and full and laying flush against his belly, the taught flesh aching to be covered by Negan's hand again.

“C’mon,” he husks out, reaching up to draw the man closer by his jacket. “Fuck me. I know you want to. Know you’ve wanted to since the first night we met.”

“Mmm, Rick” Negan hums, unzipping a pocket and withdrawing a small bottle. “You do, huh? What makes you think that?”

The crack of a bottle cap makes Rick’s heart speed up, then skip a beat entirely when Negan’s cool, wet fingers rub at him intimately, one fingertip circling the rim of his entrance before pressing in slowly. “A- _ah!_ ” The feeling, foreign but not painful, takes Rick’s breath away. His eyes flutter shut as he adjusts to the strange fullness, the impulse to both close his legs and spread them open wider warring within him.

“I asked you a goddamn question, Rick,” Negan taunts as the finger begins to pump in and out, and Rick shudders beneath the touch.

“Saw- saw how you looked at me. I know that look. I- _oh, fuck!”_ he cries out when a second finger pushes in alongside the first, a stinging burn overtaking the beginnings of pleasure that had begun to fill him.

“Shh,” Negan hushes him, his free hand coming up to rub Rick's belly and chest in a surprisingly tender gesture. “You’re alright, Rick. You can take it. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking _good_.”

Rick almost doesn’t believe him, but then the fingers stretching him open crook upwards and rub over a spot that makes him cry out and arch his whole body up into the intense pleasure. “N-Negan!” he yelps, his toes curling. He throws his arms over his head to grip at the ledge of the table, fearing that if he doesn’t hold onto something, he’ll reach for the man fucking him with his fingers. “Oh, Christ…”

“That’s right, darlin’. Let me hear you say my name. Fucking _scream_ it for me.”

Any other day, the satisfied gloat in Negan’s voice would have made Rick grit his teeth in burning anger, but with the man’s fingers working so sweetly within him, he can’t find the will to tell him to knock it off.

Rick’s teeth bite into his lower lip when Negan withdraws, the emptiness and touch of cool air against his stretched opening nearly drawing a whine from his throat. Large, strong hands grip his hips, and then he’s being pulled down the table and flipped over onto his belly, his bare ass perched on the edge of the table. His leg is hooked again and propped up on a chair, and Rick can feel how exposed he is. It makes his skin flush a deep red down his face and chest, the color deepening when Negan’s hands slide up his thighs to settle on the soft curve of his backside.

“God _damn_ , Rick. Guess they don’t call ‘em Georgia peaches for nothin’.” His ass is given a few greedy squeezes before he’s spread apart, making him squirm. “Aw, don’t be shy, baby. Looks good enough to eat.” Heat pulses between Rick’s thighs, and he feels his dick twitch and drip where it hangs heavy and aching. The hands withdraw and then there’s the sound of a belt being undone behind him. “Maybe later. Don’t want to spoil my dinner by havin’ dessert first.”

Rick hears the wet sounds of Negan lubing up his cock, and the thought of being filled with it makes him impatient, makes him desperate. “C’mon, _c’mon_ ,” he groans, pushing his hips back. Negan laughs lightly, one hand on the small of Rick’s back, pressing him down, while the other guides his cock to Rick’s entrance.

“Somebody’s fucking _needy_. Don’t worry, Rick. I’ve got you.” His hips rock forward and the head of his cock breaches Rick, makes them both groan as Negan slowly, gently sinks forward into Rick’s tight, slick warmth. Rick pants harshly when Negan’s buried in him up to the hilt, fingers scrabbling at the tabletop in search of something to hold onto and steady him. He already feels out of his mind with the warm, aching stretch of it, but he wants _more_. “You alright, Rick? Talk to me.” Negan’s rubbing soothing circles against the small of Rick’s back, and when Rick nods he feels the man lean over him, warm lips pressing between his shoulderblades.

“Fuck me, Negan,” Rick gasps out, “show me what you’ve got.”

It’s a challenge that Negan doesn’t take on lightly. One moment he’s all sweetness, and the next his fingers are digging into the flesh of Rick’s hips as he withdraws and then plunges back in. Rick screams into his forearm, his hips rolling back to meet Negan’s rough inward thrusts. It’s _good_ \- so fucking good that he can hardly breathe, can barely think clearly enough to keep his face buried in his arms so that his son doesn’t hear his throaty cries as Negan fucks him.

“So fuckin’ _tight_ , Rick, so goddamned beautiful, fuck- oh, _yes_ , baby, clench around me, just like that, o- _oh_ , Rick-” Nails rake down Rick’s back, the sharp burn of pain making him harder, making his cock throb with the sting of it.

“D-don’t stop, don’t- _fuck_! Negan!” Rick shouts breathlessly into the open air around them, his voice reverberating around the room alongside the wicked crack of Negan’s hand against his ass. He can feel the warm mark that the slap left in its wake, and he shudders, feeling himself getting close. Negan is just relentless in his lovemaking as he is in everything else he does, his cock pounding into Rick and mercilessly sliding over his prostate.

“You’re so fucking _wet_ ,” Negan growls when his hand closes around Rick’s swinging cock. His thumb passes over the leaking slit at the tip, and Rick’s whole body shudders in response. “Fuck. You’re about to come, aren’t you? You’re about to fucking come on my cock.”

He strokes Rick’s swollen cock once, twice, and then Rick is gone, coming hard with a keening cry. Negan fucks him through it, drawing it out until he’s completely spent, a lax, fucked-out pile of aching limbs sprawled across the table. He moans out a weak noise when he feels Negan’s orgasm overtake him, wet heat flooding into him while Negan rides it out with a few stuttering thrusts and hissed curses before pulling out of him and nearly collapsing into the chair to his right.

“Je-sus,” he murmurs, reaching out to playfully smack Rick’s ass one last time. “You may wanna put that leg down, cowboy. I don’t mind the view, but I have a feelin’ your kid might have heard us, and I don’t think you want him seein what I’m seein’.”

Flushing deeply, Rick slides off the table and reaches for his discarded clothes, wincing when he pulls on his underwear and feels the wetness of Negan’s come soak through the cotton.

“Not gonna clean up? Hey, that’s fine by me. Hot as hell, thinkin’ about you walkin’ around with me leaking out of your cute little ass.”

Rick makes an irritated sound in his throat and turns his head, only to see-

“ _Spaghetti_?” he asks incredulously, head whipping toward Negan’s smug face.

“Yep. Made it just for you. You didn’t think I was kidding about dinner, did you?” Negan pushes up out of the chair and crosses the room, grabbing a place and sliding it across the table toward Rick. “Sit. Eat. We got shit to discuss. And afterwards…” Negan drops him a wry wink. “Afterwards, I want my dessert.”


End file.
